Reunited
by ViolinFire14
Summary: Post Reichenbach. John goes to visit Sherlock's grave after the fall. What if Sherlock had shown himself to John at the time? How would John react?
1. A Hidden Figure

**Author's Note : Hey guys. This is my first Sherlock fic! Finally. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it. There will be more to come. All reviews are welcome :)**

The trees swayed gently to the wind. The sun was beating down strongly upon a black, polished grave. A short, sandy haired man stood in front of the black stoned grave, his head bowed in grief. His best friend, a man named Sherlock Holmes, had committed suicide.

* * *

_Sherlock stood on top of St Bart's, a slight breeze dancing across his face. Moriarty had just shot himself and collapsed lifelessly onto the stone roof. Sherlock looked around frantically, uncertain of what to do. _

_Then, he took his phone from his long, black trench coat._

_"Sherlock, are you okay?" John quickly got out of the shining taxi._

_"John. Turn around and walk back the way you came," he saw john's figure pause._

_"No, I'm coming in."_

_"Just. Do as I ask. Please." Sherlock begged._

_"Where?"_

_"Stop there."_

_"Sherlock."_

_"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."_

_"Oh, god."_

_"I— I— I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this." _

_"What's going on?"_

_"An apology. It's all true."_

_"What?"_

_"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."_

_"Why are you saying this?"_

_"I'm a fake."_

_"Sherlock—" John was nigga off by Sherlock's voice._

_"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes."_

_"Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?"_

_"Nobody could be that clever."_

_"You could."_

_"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. It's just a magic trick."_

_"No. Alright, stop it now."_

_"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move."_

_"Alright."_

_"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"_

_"Do what?" John asked, slightly confused._

_"This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."_

_"Leave a note, when?"_

_"Goodbye, John."_

_"No. Don't—"_

_It was too late. Sherlock threw his phone to the ground. He stretched out his long arms, with his coat blaring out behind him. He tilted forward slightly, then jumped. He rapidly plummeted through the cold air, falling, falling, falling. Until...Smack! He collapsed with the concrete ground, his bones crunching upon collision._

_"SHERLOCK!" John bellowed._

* * *

The memory began to fade slowly, as John began to come back to reality.

"Sherlock", John whispered.

What this man didn't know, was that the Consulting Detective was watching him, from behind a strong tree, its deep brown, strong branches billowing out from the solid trunk of the magnificent tree. The Detective wanted so badly to go up to John, apologise repeatedly for his faked suicide. But, for so long, he had been forbidden to visit John, in order to protect him from Moriarty's web.

However, this time, he might go. He didn't care about what Mycroft thought either.

Suddenly, he saw John quickly turn around. He began to walk away, his feet crunching on the gravelly path.

Before Sherlock knew it, he was running after him, his feet crashing along the ground, but not loud enough for John to hear. His heart was pounding, adrenaline taking over as he urged himself forward.

The Detective was nearly there. So close.

Then, he came to a slower pace. He reached out his hand, his breath slowing, evening out. He touched John's shoulder, and stopped in his tracks.


	2. Home

**_A/N:_ Hey guys. This took a bit longer than expected. But, this is the final chapter. Yay! Hope you guys enjoy. **

**P.S Thank you for the reviews guys. If you have any story requests, feel free to to ask. Enjoy!**

* * *

_John _He thought.

John slowly turned around, startled at the sudden touch to his shoulder. What John saw was impossible. Sherlock stood before him, his deep blue eyes shining in the sun light. He was wearing his long, black trench coat, his dark, blue scarf. John couldn't believe his eyes.

"John," Sherlock said.

_Nonononononono. This cant' be! How is this possible?! _"Sh-Sherlock? H-how? Why? Is that really you?" He said with disbelief.

"Yes, John. " Sherlock slowly took a step towards him.

"B-but, I saw you jump off that building! I saw you on the ground. Blood everywhere."

"John I. I'm sorry."

John momentarily glanced down at the ground, trying desperately to regain his control over his emotions. John asked the only question on his mind.

"Why? Not how, but why, Sherlock?"

"I. I did it for you, John. To protect you, and Mrs Hudson, and Lestrade."

John didn't know what to think. Or what to say. Or even do. He didn't know whether he wanted to punch Sherlock square in the face for causing so much pain, or hug him.

As if sensing John's inner battle, Sherlock chose for him. The Detective wrapped his arms around John, holding him close.

"I'm so sorry, John. I didn't mean to cause you pain."

John tightened his arms around Sherlock, as if trying to draw strength from him. They stayed like that for some time. John had silent tears burning down his cold, worn-out face, his head resting against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock just held him comfortingly, stroking his hand through John's soft hair soothingly.

After a while, the salty tears that fell from John's tired eyes began to stop. Slowly, he lifted his head from Sherlock's chest, and looked into his azure coloured eyes.

"John?" Sherlock asked with uncertainty. He tried to read the Doctor's expression, only to end up unable to determine what he was seeing.

"So. What happens now, Sherlock?"

"We go home, John. To Baker Street".

With those words said, John and Sherlock slowly released each other. They both turned away from the shining black grave stone and began walking down the gravelly path, the tall, strong trees swaying against the breeze, as if waving farewell to the two best friends, walking side by side.

Once they reached the noisy street, they hailed a yellow cab and told the driver to take them to Baker Street.

It wasn't long before they got to Baker Street. As the cab pulled up outside the flat, John payed the cabbie. Sherlock was the first to exit the cab, with John following suit just after. John got his metallic keys out and unlocked the tall, black, shining door. He threw a quick glance towards Sherlock, which he received a confirming nod. John placed his hand on the golden handle and opened the door.

Together, The Ex Army Doctor and The Consulting Detective entered the flat. Sherlock was finally home, with John. Home at 221B Baker Street.

**_The End_**


End file.
